


Women in Uniform

by 221b_hound



Series: Guitar Man [93]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, F/M, John's uniform, Sharing Clothes, Uniform Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John said he'd wear Mary's kilt if she'd wear his uniform some time. And this is the first of many times where the two of them indulged their uniform/clothing kink. It's also the first time that Mary discovers how commanding John can be, even when he's not the one wearing the khaki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Women in Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Skyhooks song, Women in Uniform. (The Skyhooks were an Aussie band. I'm told this song was covered by Iron Maiden, but the Hooks are the original and the best.)
> 
> There's at least one more story in the explicit John/Mary series to come - a combo of the kilt, the uniform, the light bondage - and a toy! I'm having rather a lot of fun with this.

"It's a bit tight," said Mary, tugging at the khaki shirt that wouldn't quite do up over her breasts. Her low-cut bra was visible in the gap, as were the pale, soft mounds of her breasts. Then she saw the look on John's face and laughed. "You quite like this tight on me, don't you?"

"I thought I might," he admitted, "it's much better than I'd imagined." He was reclining on the bed in boxer shorts and a faded black T-shirt that read ‘My job is saving your ass’.

Mary turned around and wiggled her arse at him, where the cloth was pulled tight against her curves. "Well, I'm much better filled out than you are."

"Much." He reached out to rest the palm of his hand against her rump and stroked down. Mary pushed her arse into the sensation, and then yelped as he leaned forward to bite the soft flesh through the cloth.

“You’re a wicked man, Doctor Watson.”

“The wickedest,” he agreed, “You quite like it.”

“I do,” Mary agreed, turning to face him again, “And the question is now that I’m in uniform, what are our wicked plans?”

John just pressed his face between her breasts and hummed. Mary waggled her torso to embed him further in the soft hollow then wrapped her hands around his head, stroking her fingers through his hair while his hum turned into a giggle.  He tried to draw away but she held tight, so he blew a raspberry between her breasts and danced fingers against her ribs until she pulled back, laughing.

“You can do better than that, mister.”

“I can.” His grin tilted. “I’m going to give you a uniform inspection. At attention, soldier.”

Mary smirked, then drew herself up at something very like attention. Arms straight by her sides, shoulders thrown back, head held high, expression as serious as she could make it (which wasn’t very). The way she made her bum and breasts jut out in the pose wasn’t exactly regulation.

John rose and his own posture changed subtly in a way she’d never seen in the bedroom before, though she’d caught glimpses of it when she’d encountered him working with Sherlock. It was like he drew gravity into him, the way he became so… centred. Dense. Commanding. 

He eyed her critically. “Where are your boots, soldier?”

Mary looked down at her bare feet, only to find John’s, or rather Captain Watson’s, fingers against her chin, making her look up again. “I didn’t say to look at your feet. I asked where your boots were. Soldier.” For all the sternness there was, underneath it, a frisson of warmth and humour.

“I haven’t any boots, sir.”

“No. You haven’t.” He began to walk in a circle around her, not touching her, but scrutinising her closely. She knew he was doing that even when she couldn’t see him, because his gaze was like a weight on her. She drew a breath at the feeling of him studying her. This wasn’t their usual bedroom dynamic, but she was kind of liking it so far.

“I said,” came his voice sudden and soft in her ear, “Straighten your back. You’re in John Watson’s army now, soldier. Bum in. Arms straight. Head up.” Mary complied with the simple touches of his fingers and palms against her khaki-clad body, wondering at how much she was enjoying this. Enjoying John telling her what to do. _Because it’s only a game,_ she realised, _he won’t try to own me._

 _“_ That’s it,” he said, standing behind her, a hand splayed on her hip now. He leaned closer in, nosing at her hairline. “Trust me,” he said, a breath on her skin.

Mary leaned back into him, and felt his strong, compact body against her back, her bum, her thighs.

“Very good, soldier,” he murmured, and he curved one warm hand around her waist under the tightly fitting shirt. “Very good.”

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered back and held still.

His hand was pressed to her stomach now, moving in small circles, fingertips sensitising her skin.  “At ease now, soldier. That means feet apart.” Mary moved to obey. “Hands behind your back, now.” She put her hands behind her back but instead of clasping them, she pressed them to John’s stomach too. She could feel the fluttering of his pulse through the skin, and feel his arousal growing and pressing against the cleft of her arse through the trousers.

“Hold yourself at ease,” John said quietly, and his fingers dipped below the waistband of her trousers, drew up again and deftly undid the top button of the khaki fatigues. He rubbed his fingers against her navel, little sweet circles on her skin, dipping in briefly to skim over the indent before seeking the tab of the zipper.

His other hand smoothed over her ribs briefly, but then folded to press against the rise of her breast. His fingers caressed the skin just under the lace of her bra. She gasped a little and involuntarily pushed her arse back against his groin, against the heat and hardness there.

“You are,” John whispered in her ear, “So beautiful. So absolutely perfect.” The hand on her stomach flattened and he slid fingers and palms down the front of the fatigues, down into her knickers, over her mons and against her clit.  Further down, to collect the sticky moisture from her cunt and drag it back up with wanton care over the swollen, sensitive nub. Mary whimpered and tried to push against his hand.

“Hold still,” he whispered again. He kissed her neck, and nosed at her ear this time. "Stay at ease. Hold for me, baby.” He pressed the pad of his finger against her clit, made a little circle, pushed his fingers down between her legs again, dragging them back and forth against the lips of her vulva, up again to make that tiny, maddening circle, then down.

And his other hand slipped under the bra so his fingertips could mimic against that nipple the slide and swirl of the one between her legs. He kissed her neck again.

Mary gasped again at the hand on her breast, the one in her knickers. She glanced down at John’s hand moving there, under the cloth, those sure steady fingers stroking her, teasing her, rubbing her clit one moment, sliding up into her body the next, everything wonderful, nothing quite enough.

“John…”

“I’m going to leave the uniform on you,” he said, “We like that, sweetheart, don’t we? Always half-dressed.”

“God yes,” Mary replied, voice hitching, “I love it. You’re so gorgeous like that.”

One hand still in her pants, he used the other to pop the buttons of the khaki shirt, to give him better access to her breasts, and he lightly pinched and rubbed her nipples through the silk before cupping each breast in turn, squeezing softly.

Then John used both hands to tug the trousers and her knickers down to her knees. He went back to teasing her cunt for a moment then she felt his cock, freed from his boxers, nudging against her entrance from behind.

His mouth was at her ear again. “I’m going to help you kneel on the bed.”

Mary nodded, stepped forward at his encouragement, though the steps were truncated because the clothing around her knees shortened her stride. Mary made a happy noise when he lifted her by the waist so that her knees reached the mattress. She started to lean forward, so she could place her hands on the bed, but he held tight to her waist and kept her kneeling but her back straight.

“Not yet, Mary, baby.”

So he stood behind her and caressed her skin, her breasts, her cunt, while his cock pressed between the tops of her thighs.

“Okay. Lean a little forward. That’s it.” She leaned, but the arm now around her waist stopped her from ending up on all fours. Instead, John seemed to bend his knees and push up and against her. She jutted out her arse to help with the angle and then, oh, his cock was inside her, shallow but intense. He pulled her body back to lie against his chest, and while one arm held her close, the other hand went back  to the brilliant/torturous business of rubbing between her legs, slick now with her own lubrication.

“John… _John_ …”

His hips were rolling and pushing up, so the crown of his cock was sliding in and out of her body. She could feel his T-shirt against her back and the top of her bum, the waistband of his boxers, which he’d pushed down to his thighs, against the back of her thighs. He pinched, still lightly through the silk of her bra, one nipple until it was almost too sensitive for her to cope, then the other. And all the while, he played with her clit and her cunt and fucked her shallowly.

“ _John…”_

“You are so lovely,” he murmured, voice growing hoarse, “Mary. Mary, Mary.”

“God. John. Please. More. More. Please. _John!_ ”

“You ready, baby?”

“So ready, John. God. _Yes_.” She had no idea what he wanted to do, but whatever it was, _fuck yes,_ she was ready.

“Hands behind your back, baby.”

She realised she had been clutching at his T-shirt, and moved to clasp her hands behind her back, putting her body under his complete control.

And now he shifted his grip so she was angled forward again, still on her knees and legs spread as far as they would go within the confines of the trousers, and he surged into her, going deeper now and paused with his cock inside her. One arm was wrapped around her waist, angled up across her chest to hold her up, the other wrapped around her left thigh and down between her legs, and his hips started working again, fucking her steadily.

She was held by his strong arms and compact body, feeling him thrust into her, feeling his hands between her legs and teasing her to climax, and she felt both suspended and safe, helpless and held and his fingers on her clit were wonderful, and his cock sliding into her was _wonderful_ and _oh oh oh **oh**._

She shuddered and came with a gasping cry and John’s hips kept up their rhythm; she could feel his groin brushing against her arse, and his cock inside her, and his tightened balls brushing against her thighs and then he was coming hard too, his grip on her torso and her waist momentarily too firm as he plunged into her fast, then slower and slower until finally he stopped, panting, still holding her close.

Mary unclasped her hands from behind her and placed them on the mattress. “S’okay baby,” she muttered, “You can let go.”

Carefully, he released her and Mary slithered to the bed. A moment later, John had crawled up onto the bed and flopped down beside her.

“That good for you, sweetheart?”

“That was bloody brilliant,” Mary assured him, laughing.

When he had the energy, he wriggled up the bed, flopped an arm around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. They were both still tangled in their clothing. Despite the mild discomfort, they snuggled and dozed.

When John woke up again, Mary had turned in his arms and was regarding him with an impish smile.

“Whassup?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “About the uniform. I have some ideas, too.”

He grinned, well pleased with this development. “Figured you would.”

“Some of them with you in the uniform. Some with me.”

“Excellent.”

And it was, and over the years they tried them all. Even the one with his dress uniform. Which was also rather tight on her, much to their mutual delight.


End file.
